


Berlin, 1:47PM

by BrosleCub12



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrosleCub12/pseuds/BrosleCub12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Skip? Would you do the thing, please?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Berlin, 1:47PM

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So this is a pretty short piece but if you're looking to avoid spoilers, scroll down to the bottom to read the notes before reading the fic. :)

*

‘Skip?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Would you do the thing, please?’

Martin sighs and lowers his book, stares up at Arthur. The steward has just returned from duty-free, so he’s currently a happy camper, a bag of Toblerones in one hand, three different guides to Berlin in the other and practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, staring at Martin with something like expectation. Martin huffs; squeezes the bridge of his nose; gives his friend a look.

‘No, Arthur.’

‘Please?’ Arthur tilts his head to the side, gives him one of his huge trademark smiles. ‘Just one more?’

‘Arthur, that’s what you said last time. And the time before that.’

‘Oh. Did I? Oh, well… just _one_ more!’ Arthur grins, hope in no way extinguished and bounces up and down again, rubbing his knuckles together in very raw anticipation. Martin tightens his mouth, glances around; thankfully, there aren’t a lot of people about in this little corner of the airport and those walking by are typically hurried, racing from A to B.

But still: ‘I’m not _that_ good at it, Arthur!’

The steward’s face falls in an instant; Martin almost feels guilty. ‘Oh, but Skip! You are! You sound _just_ like one of those guys who would do something like that – and imagine if you actually could! I bet you could make a fortune out of it if you did it for an actual job! When you’re not flying, that is,’ he amends hastily. ‘Obviously, flying is brilliant.’

Martin smirks a bit, unable to help himself in the face of Arthur’s ever-blind optimism. It’s rather adorable, he thinks; it’s hard to believe how often he forgets that and so, in its way, it’s quite reassuring. And Arthur looks _really_ hopeful and so he supposes it’s that, more than anything – as well as the knowledge that they’re relaxing in a rather deserted departure lounge and no-one is really listening anyway - that finally makes him give in.

‘The others still getting lunch?’ At Arthur’s nod, he huffs, this time resigned, and pats the space next to him. ‘Come on, then, let’s get this over with.’ Arthur beams, scuttling to sit down by his side (and Martin has trouble _not_ feeling resolute pride at the fact that he’s been able to put that pleased, excited look on his friend’s face) and with a last look around, Martin cricks his neck, rolls his shoulder, prepares himself.

‘Ready for this? Okay…’ At another nod from the steward, he lowers his face at an angle, moves his jaw around, clears his throat a few times to get it exactly right.

When he speaks next, his voice is a low, guttural growl.

 _‘So, Arthur…’_ he hisses, in the deep, fuming voice of a dragon and Arthur immediately laughs and cheers, _‘Are you enjoying… the flying?!’_ He coughs – throat is getting very strained, very quickly, but Arthur’s grin is too much to resist and he presses himself that little bit further to ask, _‘Are you feeling… BRILLIANT?’_

‘Yes!’ Arthur claps as Martin finally gives it up and coughs heavily into one hand; talking dragon impressions are doable, certainly – by his standards, anyway – but they do cause havoc on the throat, which is why Martin only does them on special occasions… and maybe the odd occasion when Arthur has just worn him down.

‘Thanks, Skipper!’ Arthur smiles and throws both arms around him and Martin smiles as well, just a bit, as he puts a hand to Arthur’s arm, appreciating the hug in his own way.

Really, though, the whole thing is just ridiculous: ever since the steward discovered Martin’s apparent affinity for ‘talking like a dragon’ – proof that he’s been watching too many of those Tolkien films – discovered on a rare night out in America (and before one or two other things very nearly got them arrested – Arthur getting his hands on Peach Schnapps before anyone could stop him being a key factor), it’s become, well, a bit of a thing. Well – actually, to all intents and purposes, it’s more of a ‘secret thing,’ between the two of them, although chances are that Douglas knows and squirrelled it away for blackmail purposes. Maybe.

Still, Martin can’t help but feel privately impressed with himself that he can even angle his voice that low – or indeed, that he’s been able to make someone laugh with it: that delighted, impressed kind of laugh that he’s never been able to prompt from most people. True, Arthur isn’t most people, Arthur is Arthur, but still…

It won’t be long now, he realises, looking up at the nearest clock, before he has to say his goodbyes and get ready to fly out and back to Zurich, if Carolyn doesn’t return from the dining area with Douglas and Herc to chivvy Arthur back onto G-ERTI first so that they can take a dozen architects and a parrot back to Fitton. (G-ERTI is currently parked somewhere on the tarmac below; every time Martin glimpses her from the window, even from afar, he feels a small, fond smile tugging at his lips; can’t help himself). In fact, he has a feeling Arthur is thinking it too – the steward’s hug is rather lingering and he even briefly rests his cheek against his friend’s shoulder. It’s quite nice, really.

It will be a while now, Martin realises then, until they see each other again, if they don’t bump into each other somewhere else in the world first – but for now, in an airport in Germany, where the staff of MJN - sorry, OJS - and the staff of Swiss Airways happen to have coincided, he sits next to Arthur, accepting a couple of pieces of the white Toblerone that’s offered to him and he decides that dragon impressions, of all things, aren’t _too_ bad.

Dragons can fly, after all.

  
*

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains spoilers for the Cabin Pressure finale, Zurich. Not mentioned at the top as I didn't want to ruin the surprise. ^_^
> 
> Just to clarify; this is not my original idea. As some readers can probably tell, this was inspired by Benedict Cumberbatch's own re-enactment of Smaug when he appeared on the Graham Norton show. Somehow, it seemed like something Martin would do for Arthur and so this random piece was born. You can view the original clip on Youtube; it's excellent fun!


End file.
